I'll Be the One

by Hazel James

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  We turn our attention to our combination locks. It takes me three tries to open my locker, even though I know I got the damn numbers right. This happens almost every time, and, as usual, Avery has no problems. We exchange yesterday afternoon’s books for the ones we’ll need this morning, and she crosses off another day on her birthday countdown calendar. “Twenty-one more days! I still haven’t heard anything from my dad about a car. So help me God, he better come through.” She applies a splash of body spray and another layer of hairspray.

  Principal Rosser’s voice comes over the intercom. “May I have your attention please. All students are to report to the gymnasium during first period for an emergency assembly. I repeat, all students are to report to the gymnasium during first period for an emergency assembly. Thank you.”

  I look at Avery and shrug. I put my first period book back while she expertly coats her lips with Red Vixxen, her favorite lipstick, in her locker mirror. As we walk toward the gym, I text James.

  Me: Wanna sit with us during the assembly?

  James: Good morning, Captain Obvious.

  Me: Haha. I’ll wait by the main entrance.

  “Well if it isn’t the two prettiest girls in the school,” James says a few minutes later. He walks between me and Avery and puts his arms over our shoulders.

  “James, you’re making us look like you’re our pimp,” Avery jokes.

  “Sorry, Avery. You’re a means to an end right now. I couldn’t keep my hands off Ray, but her dad’s sort of a bastard. You’re just a part of my cover plan.”

  “The things I do for you, Rachel Lynn,” she sighs. We trudge along toward the gym when James steers us away from a classroom door. Moments later, it swings open.

  “Wow, good timing,” Avery says, giving him a curious look. “How’d you know that was gonna happen?”

  “Your mom never taught you to not walk in front of closed doors?” he counters.

  We sit through an assembly on suicide awareness. Apparently, someone tried to overdose on sleeping pills yesterday, though they don’t say who. “This is depressing,” I whisper.

  “For real. I wonder who it was,” Avery says.

  I look over at James and he’s staring off into space. He hasn’t been his normal self this morning. “Hey, you okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, sorry. I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” He rubs his hands over his face and I notice his chewed fingernails.

  “Must be because I didn’t tell you a good night story,” I tease, nudging his shoulder. I don’t know what’s bothering him, but I’d do anything to make him feel better.

  “That’s exactly it. Don’t make that mistake again, Mrs. Tennyson.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “I’ve got track all this week, but I’ll make sure to call you when I get done.”

  “I’m just kidding, Ray. I know you’re busy because of your invitational.”

  “You know, I wouldn’t mind it if a certain tall, handsome guy found his way out to the track after school this week.”

  “I have plans this afternoon, and I’m working Wednesday, but I’ll be there Thursday.” He turns his attention to the counselor and I use the moment to study his face. He looks exhausted. Shadows line the area under his eyes and he begins chewing on his lower lip.

  “I can tell something’s wrong, James. You know you can tell me anything.”

  “I know, Ray. Everything’s fine. But thanks.” He does that pathetic smile again.

  During practice, I can’t shake James’ expression. I take my place at the starting line and wait for Coach Larson to give the signal. Although we haven’t known each other for long, I’ve never seen James look so… sad. I admit it bugs me that he’s not confiding in me. I hope he opens up soon. I’d do anything to help him not look like that.

  “Wheaton!” Coach yells from the side of the track. I look up and notice the rest of my team is already off and running. Shit. I take off at a sprint to catch up. When we finish, I hear a voice from the sidelines that sends chills up my spine. And not in a good way.

  “Young lady, what the hell was that?”

  “Sorry, Dad. I got lost in thought for a second.”

  “I’m so glad you’re enjoying your nice, relaxing afternoon on the track.” He glares at me. Dad never comes to my practices. I wonder what he’s got up his sleeve. He sighs with frustration and rubs his hands over his face. I hate that he makes me feel like I’m five years old and I just got busted with my hand in the cookie jar. “I’ll have you know that I called in some personal favors, and the coach of the UNC track program is in the stands watching you. Your future is riding on your performances from here on out. This invitational on Saturday? It’s huge. This is the real stuff, Rachel. I don’t have time for you to walk around with your head in the clouds. You need to snap back to reality and make sure you’re focused on winning. Unless, of course, you don’t have a problem with community college?” I don’t think he could be more condescending if he tried.

  “Sorry, Dad. I’ll do better,” I say quietly. He stares at me for a few more moments and then walks away. I go through the motions for the rest of practice, but the only running I really want to do is to James’ house to help him work through whatever is going on in his head. I normally wait until I’m home and showered before I call him, but I can’t wait today. As soon as I get to the locker room, I grab my Bluetooth out of my bag and jog to my car.

  “Hey, handsome. How was your afternoon?”

  “It was good. How was practice?”

  “I’ve had better, but whatever. What plans did you have this afternoon?”

  “Oh, I… um… delivered a pie to the hospital.”

  “Gran’s spreading her culinary cheer, I see.”

  “Yeah.” He still sounds distant. Doubt creeps over me like a cold blanket. Since I’ve never had a boyfriend, I’m not sure how this break-up thing works. I summon all the courage I can muster.

  “James, I need to ask you something but you have to promise to give me an honest answer.” He doesn’t respond, so I blurt it out. “Do you want to break up with me?”

  “Rachel, how can I break up with you if I never asked you out in the first place?” Okay, he makes a good point. But still. Dodging the question isn’t answering it.

  “Well, are you wanting to end whatever it is that we’ve been doing these last few weeks?”

  “Can we switch to FaceTime?”

  “Sure, I guess. Give me a few minutes to get home.”

  Nothing like delaying the inevitable. Ten agonizing, panic-ridden minutes later, his face fills my screen. “Why FaceTime?” I try to control my breathing. Maybe he’s the kind of guy who’d rather break up with someone face-to-face? I imagined all the things he could possibly say on the drive home. None of them were good.

  “Because you need to see my face when I tell you this.” Oh, God. Here it comes. I hold my breath. “I purposely never asked you out because you’re not allowed to have a boyfriend. But this thing we have—whatever you want to call it—is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve never connected to anyone the way I have with you. It sounds stupid when I say it out loud but when I met you, I felt like I was coming home. Which is interesting, considering I’ve never really had a home before.”

  Well I can honestly say I didn’t see that coming. I let out a sigh of relief.

  “You were seriously worried that I didn’t want to be with you anymore?”

  “Yeah, kinda. Things were fine over the weekend, but you were really distant yesterday and today. It’s like you were saying all the right things, but the meaning behind them was missing. I just thought you realized you didn’t want to be with me but didn’t know how to say it.” I hate that I turned so quickly into one of those teenage girls. The ones who jump to conclusions and invent entire scenarios without having all the facts. And then wrestle an anxiety attack while driving home, certain they’re marchin
g to their dating death.

  “I promise everything is fine with us. There’s no one I’d rather not be boyfriend and girlfriend with than you.” He smiles, but this time his face lights up. And it’s beautiful.

  “So then, what’s up? And don’t tell me you’re not stressed out about something.” I watch his eyes look upward, then fall. His face contorts into an expression I’ve never seen. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, as it whatever he has to say physically pains him. He takes a deep breath, and finally looks at me again.

  “So remember when you and Avery were asking about my bucket list that first day at lunch?”

  “Yeah?” I don’t see what that has to do with anything, but I’ll play along.

  “What did I say was the top thing on my list?”

  “To save someone’s life.”

  “Right. Well, it seems I can check that one off now.”

  “What? How? When? Who?”

  “The assembly we had this morning. It’s because Gretchen Rawls tried to overdose on sleeping pills and drown herself.”

  “How do you know that?” He pauses and looks down again. This time he doesn’t look back up when he starts talking.

  “Because I was on the phone with her right before she got in the bathtub.”

  “WHAT?”

  “I called her and her voice was all slurry and then I heard a big splash. So I called 9-1-1.”

  I’m trying to connect the dots here, but there are still a lot of missing dots. “How did you know to call her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How did you know her number?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “I mean, I don’t know. All day on Monday, I had this really bad feeling. It started when I walked into second period and it didn’t go away. When I got home, I felt like I was starting to have a panic attack. Before I knew it, I had my phone in my hand and I was dialing her number.”

  “So you didn’t know why you were calling her or what her number was, but you magically called her anyway?” Great, my first non-boyfriend is psychotic. Just. My. Luck.

  “It might help if I explained something else.”

  What? Like how he broke out of the mental hospital before he moved here?

  “Ever since I can remember, I’ve known things. Before they happen.”

  “You’re psychic?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. It’s always been just for fun. I’ll know what someone’s wearing before I see them. Or who’s on the phone before I answer.”

  “James, that’s called Caller ID.”

  “Without looking at the phone, Rachel.” He laughs for the first time since we started talking today.

  “So you predict things.”

  “Kind of. It’s sort of like having a memory. Only, I have the memory before it happens. It’s never been anything important. I’ve never aced my SATs or won the lottery or anything. It’s always just been random things. The first time I had a big premonition was the day you walked in late to class.”

  “So that’s why you were acting like a moron.” I laugh, remembering our first conversation.

  “Exactly. And I’m so glad I left such a good impression on you.” He smiles again and shakes his head.

  “What about me did you predict?”

  “I can’t exactly put my finger on it. I didn’t see you walking in the room or anything. It was more like a feeling. My heart and my brain were going into overdrive. I didn’t know what was going on because nothing like that had ever happened before. But when you walked in the room, I was blown away with your beauty. Except it had nothing to do with how you looked. I just felt it. The only way I can describe it is like this intense thing that gripped me from the insides. I knew you were it for me.”

  Oh my God, that’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. I want to get all those words tattooed so they’ll be with me always.

  “Anyway, I don’t ever talk about it because the last time I did, I was labeled a freak. So I’ve just had my own personal inside joke all these years. Until Monday. I have no idea how it happened. I got home from school, and I had this memory of being at school when they announced that Gretchen killed herself.”

  “Holy shit, James.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  “But you saved her life. Why do you not seem happy about that?”

  “Ray, what would I have done if I was too late? If I didn’t figure it out in time?”

  “You can’t think like that. All that matters is you saved her. Is she the person you went to the hospital to see today?”

  “Yeah, I wanted to see how she was doing.”

  “And?”

  “She was sleeping, so I put Gran’s pie on her table and left.”

  “Why did she do it?”

  “Because her parents don’t agree with her sexual orientation.”

  “Wait. I thought she was dating a guy.”

  “She wasn’t attracted to him. It was part of her trying to be something she’s not to please her parents.”

  “Wow, that’s really sad.”

  “For real.” He pauses, starts to ask a question and then stops. I’m glad he decided to have this conversation over FaceTime. It helps to see his expressions.

  “What?”

  “Well, now that you know all of this about me, do you still want to be with me? If it’s too much weirdness, I understand.” Equal amounts of hope and anguish dance across his face.

  “You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me.” He flashes his million dollar smile, and my insides threaten to turn to mush. “But this is fair warning. I expect you to never forget our anniversary.”

  He holds up his right hand. “I solemnly vow to always remember my anniversary with my first non-girlfriend.”

  “Thank you.” I giggle. “I’ve gotta shower and eat dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow before school?”

  “I’ll be the handsome guy waiting next to your locker.”

  Insides. Mush.

  “See you tomorrow, Mrs. Tennyson.”

  “Tomorrow, Mr. Tennyson.”

  “Hey, Ray?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You won’t say anything, right? About all of this?”

  “About all of what?” I say, with a look of feigned innocence. He smiles again. I wish I could kiss those perfect lips. Instead, I settle for blowing a kiss and end the call.

  Mom’s in the kitchen when I get out of the shower. I can’t stop thinking about Gretchen. My heart hurts for her. I can’t imagine being in a situation where the best option is to just end it all. Mom and I have never been very close, but I find myself appreciating our relationship a lot more after my phone call with James.

  “Hey, you making dinner?”

  “Hey, sweetie. We’re having lasagna. Want to help?”

  “Yeah, I’d like that.” I take over chopping vegetables for the salad, and Mom moves to the stove to start browning the ground turkey. She and I look alike—I get my blond hair and body structure from her. I know she used to be a ballet dancer in college, but I realize there’s a lot of other stuff about her I don’t know. “Mom, how did you meet Dad?”

  “He was my knight in shining armor. Or, at the very least, my knight with a pair of strong arms.” She stops stirring, momentarily caught up in the memory. “I was going for a jog around campus and I stepped in a pothole and twisted my ankle. Of course, this was long before we had cell phones, so I was stranded and couldn’t walk. I sat there for about an hour and finally saw this handsome fellow walking toward me. When I told him what happened, he scooped me up and took me to the campus clinic. He carried me the whole way.”

  “Was it love at first sight?”

  “For me it was. He was happily single—the typical college guy. But the next semester, he started having trouble in one of his English classes. He asked me to tutor him since that was my major. One night I came to his dorm, but he didn
’t answer the door. I could hear a lot of commotion inside and what sounded like a fire alarm. I opened the door to find him in the kitchen with a fire extinguisher. He was trying to cook dinner for me, but it backfired terribly.” She and I laugh. Dad’s never been very comfortable in the kitchen.

  “So what’d you guys do?”

  “He took me to Genova’s instead and we had our tutor session there. He kissed me for the first time that night.”

  “So that’s why you go there every year for your anniversary.”

  “That’s right.”

  “How’d you know you were in love?” I put the salad in the fridge and move to the other counter to help Mom assemble the lasagna.

  “I realized there was no one else I’d rather spend my time with than him. It didn’t matter that your dad didn’t have a lot of money. He didn’t have to buy me gifts or take me to fancy restaurants. I just wanted to be with him, no matter what we were doing.”

  Well, I know how that feels. “Dad was broke in college?”

  “Oh, absolutely. He went to college on a track scholarship. He was the first person in his family to earn a college degree. The reason he was walking when I sprained my ankle was because he didn’t have a car. He’d gotten a job at Genova’s the week before he took me there, but hadn’t gotten a paycheck yet. His manager let him work our meal off by washing dishes for the next three weekends.” Mom covers the lasagna and puts it in the oven while I set the timer.

  “Wow, that doesn’t sound like Dad at all.”

  “That’s why he’s worked so hard to get where we are now. So you’d never be without.” She says it so matter-of-factly, but it stuns me nonetheless. Here I thought my dad was just a colossal asshole with a bad case of Living Vicariously Through His Child. I think about Gretchen again and nearly break down in tears. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Mom.

  “Rachel, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing really. It’s just… this girl in one of my classes tried to kill herself yesterday.”

  “Oh my goodness, that poor child,” Mom says, covering her mouth.

  “Yeah. She told her parents she was gay and they flipped out on her.” We move to the kitchen table and sit down.